


Anything You Say Will Be Held Against You

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Psych
Genre: AU, Babysitting, F/M, Kid!Juliet, Teen!Lassiter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Detective Juliet O'Hara's new partner turns out to be her old babysitter, it's hard for both of them to move on from who they were. But with a lesson in respect and the Miranda Rights, they just might pull it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**1992**

"Sweetie, there was big bus accident, they need all the nurses they've got." Maryanne O'Hara quickly buttoned up her coat as her six-year-old daughter leaned against the stairs, swinging back and forth on the railing.

"But I don't want you to go." Juliet whined. "I hate when Mrs. Bates comes over, she doesn't let me watch TV."

"Mrs. Bates has angina, she can't come." She hurriedly pulled on her sneakers as Juliet heard footsteps coming up the drive. "She's sending her nephew to watch you. He's visiting from California, he's very nice."

There was a knock on the door. Maryanne yanked it open, staring back into the room at the clock.

A tall, thin teenage boy was standing on the porch. He had thick, square glasses, khakis and a long sleeve button up shirt, none of which hung quite right on him. 

He did not look pleased to be there.

"Hi, you must be Carl. Look, I really gotta dash, thanks so much for watching Juliet." 

Maryanne rushed by and out towards her car, leaving the boy looking slightly stunned in the threshold.

"It's...it's Carlton, you are paying me, right?" He called. 

But his question fell on deaf ears as Mrs. O'Hara sped from the driveway and disappeared down the street.

He sighed and closed the door behind him, starting when he saw Juliet hanging from the banister.

"Hi." She said. He backed up against the closed door.

"Hi."

"My name's Juliet O'Hara."

"...my name's Carlton Lassiter."

"That's a weird name."

"It is not."

"Is too."

"Is no-When is your bedtime?"

"Eight."

Carlton looked at his watch. It was five fifteen. He closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

. . .

"What do you want for dinner?" He asked, looking through her kitchen cabinets. They were mostly empty. He gathered Mrs. O'Hara wasn't around a lot.

"Ice cream." She said brightly.

"No."

"Pizza."

"No."

"Mac 'N Cheese?"

"Mac and cheese." He felt a paper box brush his fingers. "I can do mac and cheese."

He set to work ripping open the box and filling a pot with water from the sink. 

When he turned around to bring the pot back to the stove, he saw Juliet, who had pushed a chair up against the oven to reach the stove, leaning over and waving her hand above the flame.

"Juliet! No!"

He slammed the water down on the counter and ran across the room, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off the chair and away from the fire.

"Never do that!"

Juliet's lip trembled.

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because I don't want your mom to think I let you burn your skin off!"

"I don't want my skin to burn off!"

"Then don't hold it over open flame!"

Carlton's expression, his giant eyes and high eyebrows, was so intense and over-exaggerated that Juliet couldn't help but giggle.

Carlton was about to get angrier when he was hit with absurdity of the situation. Here he was, in the prime of his youth, and he was spending Saturday night arguing about second degree burns with a six year old girl.

He clicked his jaw and pulled the chair back to the table, gently setting her down on it.

"Just sit still and wait." He sighed.

Juliet grinned. Carlton rolled his eyes.

. . .

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Juliet asked as they sat on either side of the tiny wooden table.

Carlton choked on his mac and cheese.

After two glasses of seltzer and much undignified hacking, Carlton wiped his eyes with a napkin and spat-

"No." 

Juliet cocked her head.

"Did you used to have a girlfriend?"

His ears went pink.

"No." He mumbled, taking another drink.

"Why not?" 

_I am a good person. I once gave a box of sweaters to a nun. Why is this happening to me?_

"Beats me." He said finally. 

Juliet considered this for a moment. 

"Sorry." She said. She stood on her chair and stretched over the table to tap his hand a few times. "You'll find someone."

He almost laughed. 

. . .

"Lie down, your mom will be back soon."

He pulled her comforter over her shoulders and stood to turn off her lights.

"Carlton?"

"...Yes, Juliet?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

He sighed and sat down on the end of her bed, pinching the bridge if his nose.

"I don't know any stories."

"Then make one up."

"I'd rather road trip with a Democrat."

Juliet pouted and pulled her blankets up to her chin.

"Please?"

He crossed his arms and leaned his back against her bedpost.

"There was a man named Ernesto Miranda. He committed armed robbery and was arrested for kidnapping and raping a mentally disabled woman."

"What-"

"AND they named a set of rules you recite to dirtbags you're arresting after him."

"What are dirtbags?"

"Quiet. They go, 'you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

By the time he got to "..If you cannot afford to hire an attorney," Juliet's eyes were drooping shut. Carlton smirked and quietly flicked off the light as he left her room. As kids went, she wasn't so bad.

. . .

The next day a call came for him at the Bates' house.

"Carl? This is Mrs. O'Hara. I'm working a double shift next week, and I was wondering if you could come by and watch Juliet again."

"It's Carlton. I thought Aunt Annie normally watches her."

"I know her angina is going to be acting up for a few weeks. And Juliet requested you."

"...Why?" 

In the background, he heard a small, high voice yell-

"He's weird. I like him."

Carlton felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in spite of himself.

"I'd be happy to help, Mrs. O'Hara. Provided I do get paid."

And help he did.

Twelve more times.

Every night Juliet begged for the "Miranda Story". 

Carlton was all to happy to oblige.

. . .

After a month with Aunt Annie, Carlton left one sunny Saturday morning for home. Miami was fine, but school was starting in just a few weeks, and he missed California. 

He was packing his things into Annie's van when he felt something hit his back.

Juliet was standing behind him in acid washed overalls, a stick in her hand. She poked his leg with it again.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." He grunted, lifting his duffel bag into the trunk of the car.

"Why?"

"Because that's where I live, moron."

"I don't want you to leave."

Carlton froze. 

That was the first time anyone had ever said that to him.

He closed his eyes briefly, then slowly turned back to his bag. He unzipped it and took out his spiral notebook and pencil. Juliet watched him, unblinking as he hastily scribbled something down and ripped the half sheet out.

He crouched down so he could look her in the eye.

"I want you to have this." He said, handing her the paper.

"What is it?" She snatched it away and unfolded it, slowly sounding out what was written. "You ha...ve the r...ight to...re...main..." She smiled. "This is your story!" 

"They're called The Miranda Rights. every cop needs to know them." He patted her shoulder. "Take care Juliet."

Juliet looked at him for a moment, then launched herself into his arms. The sudden force at his awkward crouching position almost knocked him over, but he managed to awkwardly pat her back a few times before standing up.

"Well...I'll be going now." He said.

"Goodbye."

As he got into his car, she folded up The Miranda Rights and put them in the front pocket of her overalls.

"Bye Carlton." Juliet said softly.


	2. And The End. Of Something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are welcomed and highly appreciated.

**2006**

"Lassiter? She's here."

He barely looked up from his shirt as he straightened his holster. He was standing just outside the interrogation room, Chief Vick leaning against the wall as she braced her hands on her back and stomach. 

_She looks ready to pop._ He thought to himself.

"Now, she was one of the best Miami had."

"Yeah, but that was Miami."

" _Carlton._ "

"...sorry Chief." He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs as Karen gave him a stern look.

"Just put your best foot forward, I know she'll learn a lot from you."

He felt his chest puff up with the unexpected praise. A soft female voice piped up-

"Chief Vick?"

Standing on the steps was a young woman with curly blonde hair and a round face. She had on a brand new grey pantsuit and was holding a thin black binder in one hand. She looked familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on why. 

Chief Vick heaved herself off the wall and went to shake her hand, and Lassiter reluctantly followed.

"Hello, I'd like to introduce you to Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, he'll be working with you."

The girl's eyes crinkled in confusion, then widened and she took a tiny, almost unconscious step back. 

"Oh my God." She whispered. Chief Vick frowned.

"What's wrong?"

Lassiter glanced down at the binder hanging from her right hand. It was a new personnel file, with a neat little label pasted on the upper right corner: O'Hara, Juliet.

Now it was Lassiter's turn to frown. Why did that sound so...

No. 

_No._

Juliet O'Hara. Laughing at knock knock jokes, eating cookies, begging him to let her stay up later. 

No. No. It couldn't be. Juliet O'Hara was six years old.

"Carlton." She said, sounding slightly breathless.

Except she clearly wasn't.

"...Juliet."

Juliet awkwardly scrambled down the stairs, hanging onto the banister for dear life. Lassiter backed into the door of the interrogation room as she got closer. Juliet held out her hand.

"Hi."

"Hi."

. . .

"So this is basically a ride around, where the cops case certain parts of the city throughout the day."

Lassiter stared straight at the road as he spoke. Purely in the interest of road safety. Not because the situation was weird or anything.

Juliet shifted in the seat next to him.

"Um, Ca...Las...I'm sorry, I have no idea what to call you."

It was totally weird.

"Most call me Detective Lassiter." He said stiffly.

"Detective Lassiter, I know what a ride around is. I worked the beat for three years before I took the detective test."

_Jesus Christ, she was twenty-five._

"Maybe in Miami, but Santa Barbara is a completely different city. You've got to learn it's layout, it's lingo. Trust me on this."

Juliet opened her mouth, then pressed it into a tight line. She clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap.

"OK." She mumbled. "Fine."

They drove in silence for another mile before She glanced at up at him, his arms locked in perfect parallel lines against the steering wheel, and saw a glint of gold on his left hand.

"Oh! You're married!" She said, smiling. 

_God, she looks like a kindergartener when she does that._

"No."

Carlton jerked his hand off the steering wheel and shook it, like he was vaguely trying knock the ring off.

"Separated. She needed some space. It hasn't...we're talking. Sometimes."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

The silence in the car was deafening.

. . .

"McNab, where's Juliet?"

"The new girl? She's down on L2, shooting." Buzz smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "She's real pretty, detective. Maybe you should see if she wants to get a drink."

"I'd rather shop at an organic produce market." He snapped, and stormed down to the shooting range.

Juliet was in the second stall by the door, an AK-19 in her hands.

**_Bang Bang Bang_ **

"Juliet, no!"

She had noise canceling headphones on, and remained turned towards the paper figure in front of her. 

But before she could take another shot, she felt the gun being pried from her fingers. 

She turned and tried to take it back before she realized it was just Carlton.

_Detective Lassiter. It's Detective Lassiter now._

"What do you think you're doing?" 

He said, once she had taken off her ear muffs.

"Working with my short range firearms." 

"AK-19s are way too advanced for you. The kickback in these babies can give you a black eye."

Juliet felt a surge of annoyance run through her stomach as she looked at the three near perfect holes she had made in her paper perp.

"I think I can handle it, thanks." She was unable to keep the ice from her voice. 

Carlton didn't seem to notice.

"We're going to operate on the safe side, for awhile." He said, and clicked the safety on the confiscated gun. "You can practice with one of those."

She followed his line of sight and saw the line of plastic guns that shot paintballs, used to teach cadets how to aim. 

Her hands curled into fists, but before she could do anything that could get her demoted or possibly arrested, a uniform ran into the room, panting.

"Detective Lassiter, there's been visual on Mitchell Malansan." 

Carlton's eyes widened and he set Juliet's gun down on the shelf.

"What?"

"They're chasing him through downtown, they want you on Mark Tree Road to intercept him."

Carlton grinned and slapped Juliet's shoulder.

"C'mon Juliet, I'll show you what happens on a real high speed chase."

Juliet followed him, praying his enthusiasm could overpower his condensation.

. . .

"Mitchell Malansan. One of the biggest dirtbags out there." Lassiter said as they sped along the freeway towards south Santa Barbara. "Wanted for two murders, a vehicular manslaughter, and-"

"-Over forty counts of drug dealing."  
Juliet finished. "I know, I read his file."

"I've been tracking this son of a bitch for ten months. And the hands of sweet Lady Justice are going to grab him today." Lassiter grinned, tapping his hands on the wheel as he drove. "Make sure the surveillance camera gets it."

Juliet paused. 

"You...want me to stay in the car."

Lassiter glanced over, mildly surprised. 

"This is a very serious criminal, it's way too intense for your first foray."

"It's not my first _anything_." She said through gritted teeth. "I've been a cop for three years."

"Just sit still and wait."

"Did you just tell me to _sit still?_ "

He paused, then shook his head, a rueful smile on his face.

"You're right, stupid of me." 

He handed her the hand radio. 

"Call for back up when I give the signal. I want to be ready to roll when I bring Malansan into the backseat."

"Lassiter-"

"Although I can probably do the driving as well."

"Lassiter-"

"Who knows how you'll do in the car with such a major crimina-"

" _Carlton!_ "

Juliet threw down the radio and yanked the emergency brake.

The car twisted and shuddered to a stop at the bottom of Mark Tree Road. Lassiter slammed a foot on the brake and a hand on his gun.

"What the hell-"

Juliet leaned over into the driver's seat so there was barely an inch between their faces.

"I am not six years old anymore, _Carlton._ " Her voice way trying it's best to stay calm, but her eyes were alight with rage. "I can use the stove and shoot guns and I don't need you to run my life!"

Lassiter looked at her like she had grown nine heads.

"Juliet-"

"Stop calling me that! If I have to call you Detective Lassiter then you have to call me Detective O'Hara." 

The car radio buzzed to life.

"Vehicle 32 to Vehicle 71, suspect coming down Mark Tree Road."

Juliet yanked the speaker off the ground and spat into it.

"Acknowledged, O'Hara and Lassiter on it." 

She kicked open her door, hands on the gun Lassiter hadn't realized she brought along.

"Maybe, Detective Lassiter, you should focus more on our job and less on being a condescending jerk." 

She was out of the car and running before Lassiter even had his seat belt off.

Malansan came barreling down the hill, and Juliet was waiting for him. After a brief scuffle, she had him pinned to the side of the car in under a minute, right against Lassiter's window.

"You-" she made eye contact with Lassiter, whose ears turned pink as he realized what she was thinking of.

Juliet set her jaw and swallowed, staring determinedly at the back of the perp's head.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

By the time she got to "if you cannot afford an attorney." Two backup cars had shown up. 

The confusion as they took the perp away gave her the chance not to look at him.

. . .

At two in the afternoon, Lassiter saw Buzz pick up a paper off her outbox.  
The top read "Request for Transfer."

At two fifteen he found a pink sticky note taped to his computer monitor.

_I'm sorry for losing my temper at a superior officer. But the message remains the same._

At two thirty he figured out what he had to do.

. . .

"I brought you something." He said loudly, trying to sound confident and nonchalant.

Juliet didn't look up from her computer.

"If it's paperwork just put it on the pile." She mumbled.

Carlton awkwardly set the little cup down next to her keyboard, an inch above her hand. The smell made her glance up.

She stopped typing. She looked down at her lap and bit back a smile.

"Mac and Cheese." She said, losing the battle against her smirk. "Of course."

"I can do mac and cheese." He told his feet. He realized she was still looking at him and forced his head up.

"If I seem like I don't trust you, well, it's because I don't." He said slowly. "Juli- _O'Hara_ , I look at you and I still see this little girl who needs someone to take care of her." 

He crossed his arms over his chest. His next words were slow and stilted, like it was taking great effort to get them out.

"That's... _wrong_...of me. And I will work of letting that notion go." 

Juliet, who had absentmindedly pulled the mac and cheese closer to her, nodded.

"Thank you, Detective Lassiter. I appreciate that." She took a sharp little gasp like she was about to add something, but no words left her.

"What?" He asked impatiently. All this emotional openness was draining him. He just wanted to go to his desk and look at pictures of brutal car accidents.

Juliet took another breath and looked up at him.

"I want to show you something."

She pulled open her bottom desk drawer, and took out a paper protector. Inside the large glossy rectangle was a ragged, yellow piece of notebook paper. 

In familiar handwriting, his handwriting, Lassiter saw the Miranda rights.

"You kept it." He said, trying to keep his voice flat and noncommittal. Inside, his chest and face suddenly felt very warm.

She set it gently back in the drawer and turned to look at him. "I have been training for this job for a long time. I can handle it."

She smiled, that sunny smile. This time he didn't think she looked like a kindergartener. Maybe a fifth grader. That was an improvement, right?

He'd get there.

_I have to get there._

"You should eat your mac and cheese, O'Hara." He said as he walked back to his desk. "But...but only if you want to."

She almost laughed.

. . .

"So, have you filled out your first official report for the SBPD?" Chief Vick called Juliet into her office that afternoon. 

Lassiter lingered by the coffee machine outside, pretending he wasn't eavesdropping.

"Yes Ma'am."

"And Detective Lassiter? Everything's going all right with him?"

There was a pause. Lassiter didn't blink.

"It's going well."

"Really?"

Juliet grinned.

"He's weird. I like him."

Carlton felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in spite of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are welcomed and highly appreciated.


End file.
